


La Bañadera

by BubbleBakerPenguinPie



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: F/M, Intimacy, Kissing, Non-Sexual Intimacy, non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29112894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleBakerPenguinPie/pseuds/BubbleBakerPenguinPie
Summary: Javi comes home from work stressed and exhausted, so you run him a bath to help him relax
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	La Bañadera

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Walker_August](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walker_August/gifts).



You attribute it to the fact that you’ve gotten to know each other better than either of you intended. Because whatever this thing between the two of you is, it means you can hear from the sound of his voice how beat he is. And it means he knew you’d be at his place, thanks to the spare key he’d slipped into your hand a while back ‘just in case’. And it means he’d thought to call, to warn you that he’d be late tonight – ‘half an hour tops’ – really not so long as to be cause for concern in his job, but he’s been brought up right and he’s thoughtful when it counts.

 _‘Don’t worry about it’_ you’d said into the pause of his earnest contrition, a plan already forming in your mind.

The sun is bathing the horizon in deep pinks and purples when the door clicks open. You shut off the tap and rise, peeking your head out of the bathroom with a soft smile. Javi looks even worse than he sounded, shoulders tense and still walking with the slightest limp after the foot chase after Franklin Jurado. _‘I think I might bet getting too old for this’_ he’d said after he’d come back from that, trying to conceal the pain as always. You’d spotted it though. You feel like something has aligned your perception and narrowed it to all things concerning Javier Peña.

“Hey.” His voice is just a tired rasp at this point. He sways, but his lips still search for yours when you step close to push the suit jacket from his sloping shoulders. “Sorry about dinner.”

You shush him with a quick peck, wave away those petty concerns as you undo the tie that he hates having to wear. The first button of his shirt is already undone; it always is. He toes off his shoes at the same time you pull the tie out from his shirt collar and sags against you, just the slightest bit. Cups your cheek, the tips of his long fingers curling almost around the back of your neck. Smiling still, you turn your head to kiss his palm, his fluttering pulse thrumming under his wrist.

“Come,” you say simply and lead him back to the bathroom. It’s not especially nice or spacious, but there is a tub and you’ve tried to set the mood with some candles and soft music. The tub sits there, steaming and expectant under its blanket of bubbles.

He huffs out a small burst of a laugh, raising his brows at you. “I didn’t forget something, did I? Anniversary or birthday or-“

“You’d forget your own birthday, you big oaf.” You scold him gently as you push him to sit on the closed toilet lid. He’s swaying so much with exhaustion he probably doesn’t even notice it anymore. You start with the buttons on his shirt sleeves, small and fiddly. “It’s nothing special but _you_ need a break. To relax a bit, even just for a night, okay?”

He hums. Lets himself be handled like a ragdoll as you undress him. His eyes fall closed – another testament to his exhaustion.

“Smells nice.” His voice is so quiet now you barely catch it over the rustling of clothes and the soft crooning of the stereo. “Lavender?”

“It’s the bubble bath you gave me for my birthday.” You explain softly. Yes, he’d forget his own birthday, but not yours. And it’s not like you two have anything like an anniversary. For that to be the case you’d have to admit that there was something between you, would have to put a name on this fragile, intangible thing you have.

“Get in, I’ll be right back.” He pouts a bit but obliges you. Gathers his long limbs and climbs into the tub with minimal sloshing. When you come back, stool in hand, he’s sitting in the water, his back a tense sloping curve. It’s then that you abandon your original plan and take off your sleep shorts. Contemplate for a moment before the tank top joins them. Javi cracks open one eye, never too tired to appreciate the sight of you in nothing but your underwear.

“Oh, you joining me?” He winks, tongue swiping over his bottom lip absent-mindedly. Any other time you’d be more than happy to indulge, but tonight is about him alone. You roll your eyes playfully.

“Scoot.” You order, swinging one leg over the edge of the tub. He obliges you, always obliges you. You climb onto the ledge at the head end of the tub that’s only just wide enough for you to sit, squished to the wall and keeping your legs wide enough that he can comfortably fit his broad shoulders between them. He catches your hand, kisses the knuckles as he leans back, letting his head pillow on your thigh. The tub is too small and his knees poke out, or his feet, but you make do. The water is hot and already you can feel him melt into it, muscles loosening up. You help the process along by digging your thumbs into the rigid muscle at the base of his neck, making you both groan from how hard you have to press to have any effect.

“Fucking hell Javi, when did you last relax?” You’re starting to feel it in your arms now, how you have to work at kneading away his tensions and stresses. Still, you do it gladly knowing you’re doing something good for him. Your hands fan out the whole width of his coiled shoulders that bear so much.

“Uuh… 1986 I think.” He mumbles, eyes closed and one large hand wrapped around your ankle under the water, rubbing gentle circles into your skin.

You sigh. His self-deprecation is a topic for another day, and it punches you out of left field suddenly, just _how much_ you care about him. His well-being. His happiness. It punches the air right out of you with its sudden clarity. Unaware, he tilts his head to press a lazy kiss to your knee, and all you can do is focus on the way the water droplets pearl across his collar bones, collect in the hollow of his throat.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

“And you’re not supposed to be thinking at all.” You chide him gently. “Could you hand me those?” You gesture at the pitcher and shampoo bottle you’d prepared beforehand and placed for when you’d planned to sit on the stool beside the tub. From your current position you can’t reach them without some wild contortions, but Javi swipes them up easily, handing the items to you.

You cup the back of his neck, encouraging him to lean back, then dip the plastic pitcher in the warm water. He sighs when you let it run over his hair, body sagging just that final bit further into the bath. You take your time thoroughly wetting his dark curls, then lathering the shampoo through them. Let your nails scratch lightly, especially at that spot right behind his ear that makes him purr like some big tomcat in the perfect spot of afternoon sunlight. He’s gone almost completely boneless now, just floating in the slowly cooling water. Even the slow caress of your ankle has ceased, though he still holds it ever so lightly. He’s so handsome, his striking profile in the golden glow of the candles, that permanent pinch between his brows finally dissipated. If not for the way his mouth curves up in the tiniest of content smiles you’d think he had fallen asleep. You think it might be close to that. You lean down, press a kiss to his brow, to his cheek, then the other, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, not caring that shampoo gets on your chest. That’s why you’d taken your top off, after all.

“Almost done.” You murmur, and Javi gives only the softest hum in acknowledgement. Gently, you rinse the shampoo from his hair, taking care to massage through the strands until it’s all out. He’s completely pliant in your hands, trusting to a fault, but you’d never betray that. It’s hard earned and you only want good things for him.

“Come on now.” You reach for the fluffy towels you’d set aside earlier, only half-unintentionally tickling his side with your toes as you do. He jumps a bit, pinning your leg to his side with one long arm on instinct.

“Oh, you’re trouble.” Now he’s got both your legs in his grip and a dangerous glint in his half-lidded eyes. Just one tug and you’d be down in the water yourself.

“Don’t you dare.” You dangle the smaller of the towels in front of him. “Why don’t you dry off and I’ll show you just how much trouble I can be.”


End file.
